


Blush

by Ash_Lumos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Smut, Tracer being a sweetheart, girls loving girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:11:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7302745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Lumos/pseuds/Ash_Lumos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Widowmaker is assigned to a very important mission. Everything goes exactly as she planned until a cheerful agent gets in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovelykenobi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelykenobi/gifts).



> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> This work is a gift for my friend K.C! A.k.a lovelykenobi!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at: http://oobwan.tumblr.com/
> 
> Kisses and hope you enjoy!

The nights of London certainly had an eerie air to them. Something in the atmosphere of the old historic city made people walk more cautiously, looking back occasionally to check if there wasn’t anyone who could have come up from one of the dark narrow alleys of the town.

 

The fog was an ever present element. Sometimes it made it easier to hide from unwanted eyes in the late hours. Convenient, if one was scheming something secret and didn’t intended to spotted by any curious individuals who weren’t wise enough not to peek. Or a trained agent, for that matter. 

 

Widowmaker was standing in the tenth floor of an enfeebled building, North of the city. Gathering her equipment and carefully putting her whole setup so the assassin could begin the current mission. 

 

It wasn’t like it was her first time, by any means. However, the thrill before a well executed kill still made the woman’s body tremble and shudders of sheer delight run down her spine after seeing the physical evidence of a successful task. A lifeless body splayed on the ground, people surrounding the previously moving individual, screaming in panic and seeking pointless help from others, who also didn’t have a clue what to do under the circumstances. 

 

That’s when she would walk away, disappear into the fog, leaving no trace behind but the tears of meaningless civilians and the promise of upcoming terror in their hearts. It was bliss, power, something she could quickly get addicted to, if not already. 

 

The goal of this one, though, was a little bit distinct than previous missions. After her riffle was set in place and she could get a clear view of the populated living room of the adjacent residence not so far away, Widowmaker waited. 

 

The party seemed enjoyable enough for the guests to walk around carrying glasses and join new groups of colleagues, chatting cheerfully about work probably, or a freshly told joke by an over enthusiastic member of the event. 

 

Almost all the females were wearing long gowns that varied in colour but were similar in models, maybe there was a new trend going on Widow should know for future reference and undercover duties. 

 

Men alternated between smoking pipes and long cigarettes. They seemed pleasant. The sniper couldn’t remember the taste nor the effect of one. Distant memories from the back of her mind reproduced the feeling of dragging the smoke into her lungs and relaxing not long after. 

 

Shaking her head, the killer activated her goggles, the red light gently reflected upon the nearest wall. Much better. 

 

This way, the woman could zoom in and out at will. Now she could perceive expensive gifts piled up in the corner of the room. A birthday party. That could end tragically enough. She searched for the luminescent presence of the main guest but he was nowhere to be seen. Pity. She hated waiting but if it was something required then there wasn’t much choice but sit back and take in useless details of the social gathering. 

 

They were all so vain, walking around like they owned the world. Some were politicians, others merely rich members of an elite group that thought they were actually contributing for a better environment. Fools. Each one of them. Not even aware of the company outside their illusional safe concrete barriers. It made Widowmaker smirk. So sweet was the prey that was lured into the trap without even noticing what it was getting itself into. 

 

The spy adjusted the weapon when a familiar sound was heard not far from where she kneeled on the cold hard stone ground. The abandoned building had some furniture still hanging about. An almost destroyed cupboard with no sets inside, a pretty well rested sofa and a few more elements that one day shone in all their glory. 

 

The disturbance made her leave the spot for a second and get up. Riffle in hand, she was prepared to take anything down that dared to stand between the target and the spider. Looking around, Widow expected them to turn out soon enough but nothing came. Sighing and just about to get back in her post a bubbly laugh filled the room as a very known face appeared before her.

 

“Hello, love!” echoed the heavy cockney accented voice, big brown eyes blinked at the woman through yellow filtered glasses. “Were you having fun by yourself? That’s not fair,” she said in what seemed like a genuine upset tone, before blinking a few steps back and shooting against the assassin. Widowmaker grinned. 

 

It was effortless to duck from the shots, moving around gracefully and shielding herself behind an old table she pushed onto the floor sideways. Peeking through the top, the sniper tried to hit the cheerful ball of energy that was Tracer. Her laughter reached her ears each time the girl teleported somewhere and unsuccessfully aimed at the Talon’s agent. 

 

Every time the assassin though she had gotten it right, going for the time adjusting device on the centre of the lady’s chest, she was surprised to see the girl still jumping around not even a second later. Damn her scientist gorilla friend. 

 

After shooting against the wall one more time, Tracer blinked behind her and tapped the woman’s shoulder gingerly. “You should turn yourself in, you know. We have nice rehabilitating rooms! Some nicer than my own, even. Some french channels,” before she could finish, Widow pointed the gun at her and fired, but the girl did a quick flip in the air and twirled around attacking back. 

 

It went on for a while, at it always was. Moving around on whatever space they had, Tracer trying to capture the enemy and Widow focusing on the lady’s vital points. 

 

The spy hid for a second and changed the ammo of her gun, double-checking it before shooting towards the British girl and hearing a muffled ‘oh’ sound in return. 

 

The time traveller looked around, shaking her head in confusion. Had Widowmaker got her? She didn’t feel any pain so it was very unlikely the French had managed to put a bullet through her petite body. She couldn’t move, though. 

 

 

Looking up, Tracer noticed the woman had trapped her with a special kind of web that was probably fired from the riffle. It was seen before by her team but she had never experienced being ambushed by the device. Trying uselessly to get free, the girl twsited around and groaned in frustration. “Oh, come on.”

 

“La petite mouche s'est fait piéger par la toile,” she said in a sultry tone, letting go of the weapon that was usually held so close to her body, and walking towards the prey. 

 

The way the sniper walked, the swing of her wide hips was hypnotic, like a valiant predator strolling for the kill, gracing their victim with one last terrifyingly beautiful sight before it was devoured alive. 

 

The bluish skin glowed under the moonlight. Tracer doubted she felt cold anymore, or hot for all that mattered. She found out soon enough when the pad of gelid fingers touched her warm, blushing cheek, causing shivers to run down her spine. 

 

“You’re naive, sweet girl,” the French assassin stated, looking into the wide brown eyes, such a vibrant colour, full of life. “I will have you tell me a few things.” the digit brushed the flushed skin lightly and made Tracer blink in confusion. 

 

“Tell you what? I don’t understand-“ but then she stopped to realise that Widowmaker had abandoned her spot and completely gave up her mission to corner the Overwatch agent. It was unlikely, it was actually impossible. The woman was single-minded when set off in a task, not resting until the job was done. Why would she talk to Tracer when she could easily pick up the riffle and end an innocent life while the girl was frozen in place. Unless...

 

“That’s not your mission!” the Brittish yelled almost too loudly, her pretty eyes shifting back and forth between the window and the alluring presence before her. “I am,” she whispered. 

 

The girl never held the illusion they were friends, not even colleagues. Tracer knew they were enemies but she never planned on injuring Widow. She knew about her story, met the agent back then. Wanting or not, the shooter was a victim of something she couldn’t control, just like her. Tracer didn’t blame the cold-blooded assassin for what they had made her into, she pitted the woman. Even wondered if it was a way back from all the process. 

 

But dying like this, it was cruel, unfair even. Widowmaker raised a hand in the air and the girl didn’t know what to expect but a gentle caress on her spiky hair certainly wasn’t what was in mind. 

 

The delicate fingers brushed rebel strands back, trying to tame the fluffy mess that was rarely combed at all. It was pleasant and unbelievably appalling at the same time. She thought about blinking away but her device was off. Always a great timing it had. 

 

“Yes, you are,” Widow replied, continuing to stroke the dark locks and even placing some behind her ear. “Will you tell me about Experiment FH102?” 

 

So that was what it was, an attempt to extract information out of her. “I can’t tell you that, love,” that surely wasn't the response Widow expected, for the woman squinted and a perfect eyebrow was lifted up in distaste. 

 

“Tell me, chérie. I’m curious,” the hand that had been messing with wild hair dropped down her back, and even through the layers of clothes, Tracer could still feel the coldness of her skin. It drew circle patterns up and down, teasing and as they went. 

 

Her breath became rapid and, as embarrassing as it was, her heart race had increased considerably by the simple touch. She couldn’t be blamed, it has been a long time since the girl had allowed anyone so close, especially someone as seductive as the femme fatale staring right there. 

 

It wasn’t a secret the Brittish ex-pilot was physically attracted to her. She had a weak spot for pretty girls. And Amélie was stunning.

 

“I-I can’t,” the agent stuttered, her beautiful face becoming tinged with a lovely rosy colour. It probably wasn’t wise to already reveal she knew about the project, an initiated idea by the Organisation to search through massive data banks all around the world and hack into suspicious sources to get a hand on enemy plans before they could be set into action. The structure was still being made and there was a complex formula to a really efficient program that could actually do that, but they have gotten successful results. 

 

Widow tilted her head, secretly taking pleasure in seeing the girl struggle to form decent sentences under her touch. It was endearing. Trying another method, the taller lady scratched her lightly through the catsuit, making Tracer shiver visibly and let out a “ah” gasp in surprise. She was certainly sensitive. Lovely girl. 

 

“Can’t you? I’m sure you know something about it by now,” she whispered, moving to her sides, the British was so petite it was almost too easy to get a grip at her small frame. Long and lean, almost aerodynamically modelled to fly. Even though she was trapped to the ground. The assassin kneaded firmly at the flesh of her waist and hips, earning new whimpers from glossy lips. 

 

“Ple-please,” the sweet voice supplicated. So delicious, addicting to hear when it shook like this, uncertain and lost. “I do not know e-enough-oh. You-you are being mean, love, so mean,” 

 

“But you do. Certainly your best friend is working on the project, right?” the French accented voice questioned, puffs of fog leaving the perfectly countered purple lips. “You are around each other all the time. Tell me,” she dove in closer and whispered the last words into a flushed ear, the cold contact made Tracer shudder and move her fingers uselessly. 

 

The hands never stopped their path, massaging up and down her back and forcing the shooter to repress involuntary moans with little success. “ Wi-Winston wouldn’t tell me anything-ah. On-only superficially. Oh-your ha-hands feel cold,” 

 

Widow stopped a second to consider. Perhaps she really did only know about it partially. It didn’t matter though, any piece of information would be appreciated. Leaning in, the sniper mouthed at the hot neck, eliciting an “oh!” moan from the girl. “That might be true, chérie, but I am still interested in the little you have to say. Dites moi tout.”

 

The constant movements of the shorter lady made their bodies press together, which didn’t favour the captive’s situation. The curves on Amélie’s body were something to marvel at, and Tracer’s very hazy mind couldn’t process many rational thoughts at the moment to triumphantly ignore the mixed feelings caused by the mere action. 

 

It wasn’t like her sexuality was unknown by anyone. Tracer pretty much stood up for all minorities and was considered a role-model for it. So it was only natural her instinctive response to a rather sensual individual trying, and succeeding she might add, to seduce her poor hormonal filled self was a situation to worry about.

 

Widowmaker wasn’t new at this kind of game. The killer often got more than her share of intel just by pressing the right buttons when it came to swallow-minded men and their foolish fantasies about the her figure.

 

This was Tracer though, a trained agent and gleeful personality who had no illusion of her intuitions. However, the girl was still made of flesh. And the sniper could break into it effortlessly. 

 

Her hands continued to caress over her prominent ribs. A skinny girl she was. Long legs trembled beneath her as gloved covered fingers scraped through the thin fabric of the ridiculous colourful suit that left little to the imagination. 

 

Considering her view upon things, Lena could not even be aware of the sight she made in it. Or if she did, the agent didn’t explore the flirtatious approach. Widow wasn’t even sure if it could be done in that sweet voice of hers. 

 

What seemed to be frozen lips pressed against the hot, and rather flushed, skin of Tracer’s neck, making her sigh a loud “oh” again and elicit a grin from the other woman. Then came a kiss, and another and another. Instead of making the agent’s temperature rise, they only added to the chills going through her body. Kisses from the spider. So cold and possibly deadly. Intoxicating to the point of temporarily paralysis. Tracer was cautious not to make any sudden moves that could startle her capturer.

 

“I-I already told you all-ah, about it, love. It’s not like the fi-files are out there, you know,” she gasped under rapid breaths, trying to keep calm under the absurd scenario she found herself into. “If you don’t believe me-oh dear, you can ask a-another agent.” her usually confident and cheerful persona had vanished into a shaky, uncertain posture under Widow’s touch. If only the body could agree with her mind and try to figure out a way out of the trap, but every time Amélie smeared open-mouthed kisses on her flesh it was like every plan was thrown out of the window.

 

The assassin gripped narrow hips and pressed closer together so their thighs would touch and bring delicious friction between her legs. This was certainly not good at all. The woman smirked and lifted her head after leaving a trail of markings on the shorter lady. Those would be hard to explain, really. 

 

“Is that true? I don’t believe you. How can I get you to talk, amour?” her voice was the best definition of the word ‘erotic’ anyone could ever find. It dripped with second intents as she moved wide hips slowly in a circular motion so their frames would rock together in a rhythm that could easily be described as highly inappropriate. 

 

The grinding caused whimpers out of Lena’s lips. Her enemy’s strong muscles rubbed deliciously against hypersensitive spots, inducing more delectable sounds from Tracer that grew in volume as the sniper applied more pressure into them. 

 

The elastic fabric of their outfits almost felt like an invisible barrier between their now slick bodies. Lena felt droplets of sweat running down her neck, being sucked into a cruel pair of lips, just to have the spot bitten unexpectedly while skilful hands gripped tightly on petite hips, the back of her thighs, squeezing and kneading, driving the girl to the verge of pain. But what a sweet feeling that was. 

 

To be touched and virtually wanted. Desired. Even though it was all part of Widowmaker’s plan, the torture remained sweet and tantalising. 

“Lo-love. You are ma-making it hard to-oh, to breathe. I ca-can’t even think properly,” Tracer tried to explain, as every inch of visible skin was assaulted by Widow’s mouth avidly, like the assassin was trying to devour her whole. Lena was sure there were to be several teeth markings in the morning, but she couldn’t care less about that in the moment. “It’s not like-ah, I could give you any answers like this.” 

 

There was an urgent tone in the voice. Despite being helpless, she spoke the truth. Amélie looked at her once again, leaving the faint remaining sensation of her tongue behind and making her prey whimper at the loss.

 

Amber eyes glimmer under the dim light of the abandoned building. And it was when the woman looked at her that Lena realised.

 

She was blushing.

 

The ever cool-headed killer, a trained strategist was blushing. Her pupils blown wide with stimulation and her breathing pattern too rapid for her standards. 

 

Tracer tilted her head in amusement, admiring the completely unique view of one of the most feared beings in the whole world standing there, right between her legs, panting and looking a little unfocused from reality itself. It was unbelievable. 

 

The agent blinked twice and leaned in forward to get a close look. The tip of their noses touched and the girl instinctively moved her head from side to side, causing them to bump adorably against one another and the sniper huff, apparently annoyed by the display of weakness. 

 

A thousand thoughts ran through Lena’s mind, but the most relevant point was Amélie could not be the same as she was, stripped from her will and choice, but still a human nonetheless. She could act as though nothing affected her but it was clear enough that everything involving physical contact, either good or bad, elicited a reaction from her.

 

A sudden sadness flooded her chest. To think that, in a way, the most impenetrable shelves also carried the curse of loneliness. 

 

“Is it always like this? For you?” her heavy British accent echoed through old scratch painted walls. “To pretend you don’t feel anything?” the shooter finished, trying to find any evidence of emotion left in sharp eyes but they only shifted and looked away, like Widow could avoid deeper thoughts by ignoring the source of her questionings. 

 

“Je suis-“ the rest of her sentence, and it must have been a really good one, was about to leave her parted lips when Lena moved forward, swinging her whole body in the lady's direction and pressing their lips together in a gentle but firm kiss. 

 

It was comparable to kissing someone in the winter, she supposed. When the sensitive flesh of their mouths was peeling and terribly cold. But with Widowmaker it wasn't just so. Her lips felt full and glossy, like they always appeared to be, with a surprisingly sweet taste of grapes, almost winey. 

 

Tracer wished she could move her hands and run her almost frozen finger through the high ponytail and get a gentle grip of her waist, that way Lena would be able to fully explore without any restrains. However, she made the best with what was given and tilted her head left, getting a better angle to suck on the plush bottom lip and swipe her tongue over it. 

 

Loud smacking sounds could be heard between them as the agent smeared little kisses on the corner of Widow’s lips and right on their centre, among more heated moves. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to deepen their contact, Tracer took it when the woman gasped in surprise after a gentle nibble on her upper lip, giving the time traveller free access to lick her way into the kiss and make the assassin’s body tremble.

 

It seemed the unbreakable spy wasn’t as emotionless as the tales told. Her taller frame shuddered against the petite body of the agent, lightly at first, then increasing visibly until Lena moaned against her mouth, sucking on her tongue and leaving trail of little pecks whenever they parted. And that made the sniper lose focus for a seconds to press their chests flush together. 

 

The warm glow of Lena’s equipment, the very one that kept the lady grounded to present time, sat almost perfectly between Widowmaker’s breasts. The heat that oozed off the delicate machine spread through gelid skin and elicited shivers and little shifts from the spy.

 

When Lena let her partner go to take a breath and blink herself into reality again, Widow found herself in a dazed state of mind, like a stunned person who had been caught off guard and didn’t quite know how to react to a certain situation.

 

A dull beep reached their ears, coming from Lena’s body and making Widow shift her head and immediately activate her spider-vision glasses in defense mode. Tracer giggled and took the opportunity to leap forward in time a few seconds. The pressure from the breakthrough successfully teared the restriction on her hands and allowed the traveller to flip in midair as freely as she wished. 

 

“I’m not done with ya!” she announced at the assassin’s confusion, who once again was reaching for her momentarily forgotten gun and getting ready to fire. However, Amélie was thrown back a few steps at the surprising leap the girl took next to her, grabbing her trade weapon and going back to a safe distance. 

 

“Now, how did you set this again?” the British shooter scratched the back of her head questionably, trying to find the right button between a few colourful options. 

 

Widow had pulled a knife and was already running in her direction. Swiftly as the wind, the sniper jumped for the target and was suddenly dragged down, falling onto the old sofa in the middle of the room, her hands glued to it by the previous secret device she had added to the gun and then another shot came to her forearms, making sure escape was impossible. 

 

“Got it!” the cheerful voice announced and quiet, light steps made their way to the trapped furious woman. “Aw, don’t be like that. That’s what I call versatility!” 

 

The little teasing did nothing to soothe Widow’s nerves, who shook and twisted her whole body, trying to free herself from confinement. “It’s not wise to trap a spider,” the sultry tone made it more threatening than seductive. “Don’t take challenges you can’t go through.” an eyebrow arched defiantly, her eyes following Tracer’s every move. 

 

“Oh, I am willing to take that risk,” Lena smiled, crawling her way to the pitiful yet soft couch where the lady lied helplessly. 

 

Having Widowmaker at her mercy was rather overwhelming, like the dizzying sensation one got after drinking a few more beers than they were ready to handle. Tracer looked down at her, catching a glimpse of the menacing look in those yellowish eyes. Like a dare was proposed form a single look. The sniper’s legs were closed towards her chest, instinctively protecting vital spots of the lithe body. 

 

Lena supposed it was sad. To never trust anyone to come near, to get close, to touch. Always a doubt in the back of her mind. Ally or enemy? Mission or pleasure? Sometimes things got mixed ups in a sea of uncertainty. 

 

Nonetheless, it didn’t matter if Amélie wasn’t her old self anymore, that sweet lady who offered her coffee or a piece of candy right between missions. Amélie was Widow now, and there was nothing to mourn because she was still there. Different…changed, but still among them. 

 

“I won’t hurt you,” Tracer said in a whisper, only admitting what she already knew deep down. She would never injure the woman.

 

Lena’s warm hands rested on the taut, muscular stomach that twitched under the light touch. She was firm and toned almost everywhere. Years of physical activities showed onto the remarkable body beneath the girl. 

“When we hm-“ Tracer tried, looking anywhere but the gorgeous face and drawing silly patterns on the woman’s belly “When we kissed, you seemed to like that. Do you like snogging?” the girl asked in a rushed tone, an adorable blush spreading through her cheeks.

 

Amélie smirked and finally stopped trying to escape, seeming to be interested in where the conversation was leading. She didn’t say anything but her eyelashes fluttered and her glance shifted between Lena’s eyes and her pretty pouty mouth. So the girl took that as sign to go on. 

 

Leaning in, she pressed their lips together once more, moaning at the renewed connection, a low ‘hmm’ coming out of her partially opened mouth but Lena didn't care. It was good to touch, to let go for a little while. Widowmaker made no move to push her away, or Tracer would have moved pretty quickly. Instead, the assassin made way for the eager tongue to explore inside, licking and tangling, going for the right rhythm, calm but fervent.

 

A slow burn took over both of them. Now Tracer’s hands were wonderfully free she could move around and touch Widow’s sides, her ribs and down to the curvaceous hips that inhabited her dreams every once in awhile. The texture of the catsuit was rough under gloved fingers but was still so pleasant. Taking a moment, Lena managed to take the annoying pieces away and throw them away in any corner of the room. 

 

Even though the weather was not favourable not to wearing appropriate clothes, the shooter didn’t regret it by the mere feeling of getting skin contact from the action. It was bliss. Their kiss was intoxicatingly addictive, sweet with a bitter touch, just like her favourite candies. 

 

“Mmh,” a moan from her partner vibrated against shiny lips, which Tracer swallowed gladly. Her favourite sound in the word was the satisfaction of another lady. So sincere when elicited just right. 

 

Widow’s legs spread lazily for her, bordering on an involuntary reflex to being caressed by hot digits, making their way up and down shaky thighs, nothing but gentle touch. Exploring and massaging at the tense muscles, so rigid under tender grazing, like it was all so foreign, so suspicious. 

 

Lena could get a better spot between them, marvelling in their shared kisses that seemed to never come to an end. Widowmaker was surprisingly a pliable lover, almost passive to her wishes, waiting to be taken and sighing whenever they parted abruptly, waiting for more. 

 

The girl proceeded to smear open mouthed kisses on the cold neck, where she could feel the rapid pulse on the sensitive spot. Breathless “ah, ah”’s filled the space and Tracer couldn’t pay attention from whom they came from but she was almost they weren’t from her. 

 

The heat of the girl’s plush raw flesh spread through the woman’s skin, making embarrassing whimpers be let out despite her intentions. “Ché-chérie,” she moaned lowly, like a secret to be kept just between to two of them. Something private. 

 

“Yes, love?” Lena replied, her sugary voice muffled by the pecks she continued to trail up and down the lovely neck to the exposed collarbones, where the agent dared to nibble softly and make Widow buck her hips up in response. “Is something wrong?”

 

It was peculiar. Different. To have someone asking about anything, to feel nothing but amazing waves of pleasure running down her spine and to more sensitive points. Making her wet. No pain. No games. Widow closed her eyes, lifting her long and perfectly sculptured legs to close on Tracer’s hips, bringing her closer. The sniper longed for what the lady offered so freely, more warm kisses, more of light, gentle hands. 

 

They were good, so good. Travelling as they wished, sometimes making bold moves and squeezing her round ass, the back of her twitching thighs, cupped her breasts so sweetly. 

 

“Ah,” the loud cry wasn’t intentional. It was so unlike any reaction the assassin had towards anyone. But it felt amazing. There was no rush, just slow builded movements. 

She wanted to take it all off. Her suit, her equipment, to feel more. To feel whole. 

 

“That’s it, you’re so lovely. Look at you,” came the encouragement. More “oh, oh”’s moans left the parted lips, no longer able to hold them back. The kisses were scorching hot against her flesh, the girl had moved to the cleavage where the sniper’s chest was partially exposed. Tracer bit playfully at some spots, causing shudders that could be felt against her mouth. 

 

Look at her? What would she see? A helpless prey she was taught to despise. A fool giving up the ability to think. It was stressing, made everything feel confusing.

 

“Hey, hey,” the voice, those big brown eyes blinked up at her sweaty face. “I’m here. Be here with me, please.” it was a request, not that the adorable tone could ever demand anything of anyone. But it was a true request. Widow looked at the flushed cheeks, the red tinged tip of her nose and the way the wild hair moved with the wind. It was…endearing.

 

A slight nod was all the confirmation the time traveller needed while Tracer smiled and nuzzled the bit of skin between perky breasts, placing renewed kissed there and almost making Widow laugh at the tickling sensation. Luckily for her, it was contained just in time. “Do you want me to get it out?” Lena pointed to the messy trap on her hands.

 

How could she even trust the woman wouldn’t grab weapon nearby and just point it back at her? Naive girl. 

 

If Lena let her go, release her into free will, then there would be no excuse. No justification for reckless decisions. She wished for it to linger, just a bit more, until the spy could walk away from this frozen moment in time and continue to live simply, as she knew and were conditioned to. But not now. Just for this night. 

 

Amélie shook her head slowly, arching her back into a perfectly semi-circle, offering her body to the taking like all the forbidden desires that hovered her mind from time to time.

 

The girl smiled softly and nodded, resuming to kiss her upper body, taking pleasure into pressing lips onto the soft, supple flesh of Widow’s chest. They left little to the imagination, and it wasn’t like the first time Lena had wondered what they would feel like. “You have soft spots,” she announced cheerfully, giggling as nibbles and a little suckling were applied to said place. 

 

The spy wanted to roll her eyes but it was undeniably true. Every little bite on the glowing skin elicited new responses the sniper didn’t even know she could do until then. Little “ah”’s and “hmm”’s were becoming more and more frequent as the girl continued exploration. 

 

The sound of a zipper opening up caught Widow’s attention. The choice of outfit in this mission had been strategic, in case she had needed get rid of it easily, the woman just didn’t expect the events to have turned out this way. 

 

The little black suit was simple and perfect to hide in the shadows during the night time. As Tracer went down, more of light blueish skin was revealed. The girl’s eyes widened comically to the sight being displayed right before her. 

 

Gorgeous, toned muscles moved under taut skin. There was a thin layer of sweat between the perfectly shaped breasts and her nipples stood up in the air, demanding attention and care. They were slightly darker than the rest and just ideal to lavish with kisses and nibbles. Widow’s abdomen was sculpted like the woman rarely went a day without any physical exercise. Wide and still covered hips moved enticingly, displaying all the graceful motions they were capable of to her captor, as if the breathtaking view under the agent wasn’t tempting enough to get lost into.

 

“Vous aimez ce que vous voyez?” she whispered and Lena was pretty sure it had something to do with seeing something. The Brittish was seeing something alright, so she just nodded dumbly, making Amélie grin and completely relax against the surface once more. 

 

Delicate hands traced the curve of Widow’s ribs, hovering lovingly over each one, taking in every detail. They were prominent but not overly so, partially because her partner was leaning towards the gentle caress. The nice movement of going up and down between them and pressing lightly was delightful and quite relaxing. 

 

Mimicking the motion on the other half, Tracer scratched softly over her stomach and a sudden noise made her stop. A sound the girl never, in a million years, would have expected to hear from Widowmaker. 

 

Laughter. 

 

“You are ticklish!” Tracer grinned stupidly, her wide grin making the woman frown and whisper ‘Nonsense’ in return, but when the wiggling of overly nice digits continued on her lower body, the sniper laughed lowly, almost a pleased purr coming out of her lips. 

 

It was agonising, being helpless under such mockery. 

 

“Not funny,” she tried to speak between giggles. “Stop. Stop!” 

 

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry, love.” The innocent lady apologised and bowed down to kiss the spot, taking her time to leave a trail of glossy markings everywhere reachable. Making a wet path to the centre o Widow’s chest, Tracer peppered more sweet pecks there, before taking a nipple into her mouth. 

 

“Ah,” Amélie gasped, making a puff in the cold night air. “Oui, chérie,” the moan was shaky and broken. Lena’s mouth was so hot, like a brand on her flesh, marking the sensitive nub as the girl sucked and flicked her tongue against the tip, rolling it around and around, driving her mad. Sparkles travelled between her legs, making the spy feel the very evidence of her pleasure run down still clothed thighs. 

 

“Oh,” was all she could say to the gentle incessant suckling. It was good, so unbelievably good. Her head was spinning, or maybe the whole room was, Amélie was not sure but she lost count of how many months, maybe years she had gone without anyone treating her body this way. 

 

Lena moaned while lavishing the delicious peak with so much attention it made her drool and spit run down her partner’s skin. A constant ‘hmm’ made the nipple vibrate inside her scalding mouth. It felt like floating.

 

Her hands never stopped touching, reassuring, anchoring the woman to the present. They were so tender, pressing all the right spots. On her calves, the back of her knees and thighs, the lovely hips to the perfectly round ass beneath the girl. And Widow didn’t mind, far from it. She wanted more. Needed more right then, before she embarrassed herself and risked ending it all too soon. 

 

Tracer repeated the motion on the other nub, adding a little bit of playful nibbles to that one and giggling when she heard Widow gasp and move upwards, so she could get more friction where the sniper desired the most. 

 

Taking pity on the restrained lady, Lena shifted so she could fit one leg between the spread limbs and circle her own hips to create a nice motion for Amélie to rub against. Tilting her head to find the right angle, the girl smiled when her partner whimpered a desperate ‘oh’ in response. 

 

“Like that? Did I get it right?” she questioned so sweetly against Widow’s lips, claiming her mouth once again with that devious tongue of hers and leaving sweet pecks all over the woman’s flushed face. The sniper could only nod in agreement. 

 

Whenever the agent moved, the fabric of the leggings touched her clit and made Widow see stars. A stream of ‘ah,ah’”s was breathed into the other’s mouth, who gladly took it all, licking her way inside their kiss, exploring and sucking on her tongue, establishing the perfect pace. 

 

“More,” Amélie’s voice was husky, dangerously low in her ear. A demand, not a request, that Tracer was more than willing to comply. 

 

She looked down at the tantalising body under her, breasts exposed, half naked and with a glorious blush spreading everywhere. There was still the remaining obstacle of the lower part of the catsuit. Lena blinked and took and few seconds before asking “Can I rip that?” 

 

Widow arched an eyebrow and opened her legs, one gesture that the agent was learning to be her code for ‘Go on’.

 

A loud tearing sound followed, the strong material of the killer’s clothes was completely destroyed by surprisingly strong hands. It secretly turned her on, not that Widowmaker would ever admit the fact out loud. 

 

Now, Amélie finally laid completely nude under the hungry gaze of her new lover. 

 

She wasn’t ashamed, never had been. It wasn’t in her blood to be humble or low-key about her fine traits, Widow knew exactly the picture she made. Soft and firm, curvy and inviting. 

 

“Will you just look or grace me with your lovely hands?” the French asked, whining pleadingly for Lena’s touches. “I’m getting cold, chérie.” 

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Tracer said half-jokingly, getting to the perfect position for 

“Ohh,”

 

The initiative had been unexpected but Widowmaker was certainly not complaining about the surprise. The British had dived downwards and kissed the supple flesh of the inside of her left thigh. Electric waves traveled through her body, causing visible shudders to come to the surface.

 

“Oui, good girl. Don’t stop,” even in a situation such as the one the sniper was in, the woman never lost authority. It was a remarkable characteristics not many people possessed. 

 

Lena obeyed the order nonetheless, teasing the sensitive area of her groin and the ‘V’ of her hips, licking and suckling around the spot Amélie wanted her attention the most. 

 

“Don’t tease me,” she sighed, unconsciously twitching her trapped fingers, wanting to fist that spiky hair and guide the beautiful mouth to where she desired. 

 

It didn’t take long, though. The warm plushness kissed her already soaking wet lips, embarrassing smacking sounds echoed through the walls again and again as the gentle girl lavished her pussy with loving kisses. Why did she have to be so careful? Act like every little thing meant so much? It was highly confusing as much as it was addictive. The time traveler was gentle without being mellow. Passionate in every motion. 

 

“You’re so wonderfully wet, love. Means I’ve done something right,” she giggled before flattening her skilled tongue and lapping at her opening, going up and down so slowly it drove Widow completely insane on how amazing it felt. Her juices poured helplessly onto the girl’s mouth, who licked without rush and added a ‘mmh’ each time her lover trembled and moaned in pleasure.

 

Using her fingers to delicately open her up and place more teasing kisses inside, where there was warmth and even more slick. So sweet. Lena loved everything about pleasuring a woman. Absolutely every aspect. How amazing they sounded when she used her mouth, how hot their velvety walls felt against her tongue. How different each one tasted and the perfection of finding the right spot that made their eyes roll. 

 

Widow could be highly trained but she was still beautifully human, so when Tracer flicked her tongue rapidly over sensitive bits she still moaned for the girl, and after enticing her quiet enough, the British finally sucked on the swollen clit, closing her lips perfectly around the little nub and suckling it in steady motions. 

 

“Ah, ah-Je vais-oh,” there wasn’t nothing more the sniper could have said. Her head was in the clouds, she could feel her pulse, the abnormally rushed beat of her heart. It shouldn’t cause such reactions, nor leave her limbs shaking uncontrollably.

 

But her dear partner was good. So good. Making a mess and not even caring about it. Getting lost in her activity, licking and sucking, sometimes even mildly nipping. Blissfully experienced. Amélie felt the girl proceed and draw a perfect ‘eight’ shape with her tongue over her clit and a little below. She could feel tears running down her cheek.

 

“Vous me rendrez folle-ah,” the increasing sounds of her whines were incredibly erotic. Honest and so unlike the aloof persona she always put on. 

 

Tonguing at the entrance and making zig-zag patterns, Lena sucked at the little clit for a few seconds before Amélie spasmed and cried loudly, shaking and twisting her whole body as the earth-shattering release ran through her veins, making the woman feel light headed and…the emotion couldn’t be recognised at first but her legs felt wobbly and it just felt right to close her eyes and enjoy the moment.

 

A nuzzle on her cheek took the killer out of the trance to see Tracer with a big smile on her face, looking down at her probably stunned face. They shared another kiss and Widow could taste herself on the girl's tongue. It was odd and foreign but not displeasing at all. 

 

“Hello,” Lena whispered in cockney accent, kissing her nose, making it twitch irritably. “So…Can you go again? Because I certainly can make you go again.” 

 

Such an curious lady she was. It was obvious the required stamina for another round was there, but it wasn’t an offer she was used to hear very often. Wasn’t it her time to demand something? An odd one, indeed.

 

In response, Widow just nodded as the cheerful agent changed their positions and slid right behind her, so the woman’s back was flushed to the girl’s chest. 

 

Her fingers found her oversensitive lips once again and started playing mildly, like the girl was learning every inch of her body to successfully drive the spy mad. It wouldn’t take a long time if Lena was as skilled with the digits as she was with that wonderful tongue.

 

Slow circling movements around her spent clit made the sniper’s body tremble again. It felt too much and not enough at the same time. The agonising slow pace and the gingerly motions. Other hand, now cold from being exposed for far too long to the chilly weather, guided one finger inside to the first knuckle, waiting patiently for a response. 

 

“Alright?” the girl whispered against her cheek, kissing the blushing skin. 

 

“O-Oui,” the woman moaned back, lifting her leg up to give her partner more access.

 

Widowmaker would be reluctant to admit she could enjoy intimate contact anymore. It wasn’t something simple to do. Not a reaction she could force upon herself like she did with every other ability she acquired. The woman could not pretend when it came to the matter. She could act and fool her partners, make them believe they were on top of the world handling someone like her. 

 

But with Lena she didn’t fake a single ragged breath, not a moan. 

 

It has been long since the killer was the centre of attention. Since she felt lovely skilled fingers work on her without tiring. Moving back and forth, there were two inside now, moving so patiently and rubbing just the right spots. How could she possibly know that?

 

Wetness dripped down on the girl’s skin as she fucked her lover so good, increasing the rhythm of the thrusts and curving her digits so they would grind against such sensitive places. Tracer’s right index finger rubbed on her nub incessantly, making such shameful sounds come out.

 

“Faster, ah-faster,” there were pleads and whimpers, her hips moved on their own, but she was past the point of caring because it felt astonishingly good. “More, chérie. Don’t stop-oh. Don’t stop, don’t-“

 

And after a few seconds the whole world shifted.

 

An explosion of sensation travelled through her mind, making her feel light, relaxed and heavy all at once. The bliss that ran into her veins, was pumped from her heart, made Amélie feel hyper aware of every little thing around her, the kisses Lena placed on her, the agent’s blessed, amazing, gorgeous hands massaging her shaking body, the noise from the streets. So alive.

 

Tracer smiled to herself at the debauched picture the spy made. And even in her sweet ignorance about the human mind and how it was driven she still knew a thing or two about spiders from when she was a curious student. 

 

Black Widows are extremely intelligent creatures, warriors and very dangerous. When joined with a partner, the female would attempt murder for greater chances of survival, but if their lovers were good enough to leave them stunned with pleasure they had a shot to escape unharmed. 

 

“I hope we can do this again,” Lena whispered against parted lips, taking her forgotten gun and shooting the trap to give the woman mobility to get away if she desired. Walking towards the nearest widow she turned back to blow a kiss at the seemingly exhausted lady. 

 

“Se ya soon, love!” 

 

Widow watched her blink away, taking the time to catch some breath and realise that for the first time in a very long while she had failed the mission given to her. Sighing and freezing her hands, the spy opened and closed gelid fingers to get the blood running. 

 

It would get some minutes to be able to get up again so she just lied there watching the rather captivating sight through the broken windows. London was indeed a mysterious city. As the fog lifted in the air, Amélie couldn’t stop thinking she only wished to return to the base and confirm if there was any close mission in which the assassin would get the chance to meet Tracer again. Blood pumping at recent memories. 

 

“We will indeed, chérie.”


End file.
